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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26327677">...Stays On Promethea*.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauser_Frau/pseuds/Mauser_Frau'>Mauser_Frau</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Borderlands (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence, Biting, Chapter 18.5, Clothes Ripping, F/M, Gambitverse AU, I hope you like biting, PIV Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, characters getting carried to the bedroom, did I say biting, if you were wondering where it went</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:48:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26327677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauser_Frau/pseuds/Mauser_Frau</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a night of drinking and dares that resulted in kisses, Troy drags Wyn back to their hotel room... with sexy results.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Troy Calypso/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>...Stays On Promethea*.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wat_Are_Dis/gifts">Wat_Are_Dis</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She shouldn’t have done that.  What? Any of it.  Buying the whiskey, teaching Troy Buzz, playing with that weirdo at the bar (ace operative, her ass), kissing anyone, let alone him, Troy, the friend she wanted as the father of her child, person she danced with on the battlefield, sad little boy who slept on her sheets more often than not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It won’t be the same after this, won’t ever go back to those many shining months where they were some kind of friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole night runs in refrain through Wyn’s mind.  It’s clearer by some turns than others.  Healing has already started pulling the alcohol out of her system, so she sees her drunk self now with all of the aches most people find in the morning mirror.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Troy’s pissed and the whole city’s shining out there past the elevator glass, full of other lives, other people she could have pressed herself against.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand digs into hers, heavy and too warm, just like his silence.  She can hardly even hear him breathing.  Promethea moves on around her and she’s still stuck back in the glitter at the end of a party that happened without her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator dings.  She stumbles into the hall before him.  His shadow from the chandeliers lags behind even though he should be beside her.  All at once he shoves past, unlocking the door.  A space like forever spreads through the dimness, fingering out around her, waiting for the thing to beep.  She starts to ask him what’s going on.  Then the door opens.  He pulls her, the same way he used to when they first started training.  It’s been a while since that happened.  They’ve gotten better.  It’s been a while since…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They forgot to close the blinds before they went out.  Wyn only sees because he spins her.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slides closed behind her and Troy’s there</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> his body, his aura, his mouth, hot on hers.  He tastes like fever and whiskey.  She’s not sure if he’s a messy kisser or if the liquor got to him, but he has no self-control about it, his movements thick, biting and at the same time this off-kilter brush of hesitant, like some part of thinks he should not, he dare not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn wants to tell him to dare anyway, but drowns in his movements, full up with his flavor and her own blush.  He tries to move.  She pulls him back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could she not? He is everything she expected.  He is an absolute shock and he really does taste like shots, now that hers are fading from her system, delicious and tender and gasping and so absolutely with her despite his sloppiness.  Since, yes, that’s the truth.  Troy Calypso is a clumsy kisser.  Part of her knew.  She saw him that way, licking into her in one or two of her fantasies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In their very real present, he traces his hand down her side.  She shivers.  He looks her in the eyes, a trail of her spit in the corner of his kiss-flushed mouth.  Wyn thinks to him </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  If he feels it, if he knows, he has her over his shoulder in the next instant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s carrying her to the bedroom.  The mad lad.  She won’t fight him.  It’s that dizzyingly wonderful, especially the drop, since he’s not gentle with her.  She lands with a thump.  Him too once he’s eased her knees apart and made a space for himself there, on top of her, looking her right in the eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand steals into her hair.  “How many have you rubbed out to me?” he asks, his voice fainter than the question should be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know.” Wyn’s breath hitches.  It’s not quite a laugh.  “Not enough.  I still… I really… I meant that,” she manages.  Her emotions tilt towards simple embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy kisses her again, each cheek and then her lips.  “I’ve been right here the whole time.  All you had to do was ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She expects a laugh.  Instead he sounds some soft kind of angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why? </span>
  </em>
  <span>she wonders.</span>
</p><p><span>He shakes his head.  “I don’t know.  It’s like something that should have happened didn’t, I guess.  But then, what’s </span><em><span>supposed</span></em> <em><span>to </span></em><span>in all of this?” Troy means the whole universe, but he means it while he looks only at her.</span></p><p>
  <span>Wyn feels small, yet luminous, like her Siren nature should be showing through all of her body.  She sinks her fingers through his hair.  He’s a little sweaty from all he’s had to drink.  Dewey she’d say if he was another girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles.  He’s still listening, she guesses, his mind intrusive in the same way as his fingers since he’s slid those up her skirt.  He shows a sureness in the way he lightly drags his nails and his touch sensors over her skin.  He’s equally good with both, not that Wyn expected less.  The difference in temperature, that makes its own little thrill.  She can feel the servos in his fingers clicking once he reaches the sensitive curve on the inside of her hip.  It makes her shudder in the best possible way.  Of course he does it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn draws him on though, figuring two can play with their telepathy.  She turns her mind to one night after training.  Troy had finished early, gone to wrestle with a few of the junior monks.  She’d watched him for as long as she could take the sight of him shirtless and laughing and gathering bruises.  It hadn’t been as much as she’d wanted.  Her body had other plans, mostly her staggering back to their home, bolting herself in the bathroom.  She’d had herself off like she’d used to when she was pregnant with Vael, a mirror between her and lube up to her wrists, not that she wasn’t soaked, but she could get herself off faster, more times, with a certain shuddering intensity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above her, Troy snickers.  His tongue draws over her throat.  He starts to whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s distracted him.  She pulls her skirt up and she grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a perplexed handful of seconds, they both begin to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crotchless panties? Really?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn nods.  “I think they’re sexy! Was hoping I’d find somebody who agreed.” She adds the last part with a wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy pretends to contemplate his next move.  She’s already halfway guessed it though.  The panties get ripped off of her.  They land somewhere in the shadows below the bed.  “I prefer none,” he tells her.  He pushes on her legs, rougher than before.  Still smarting from the torn panties though she is, Wyn obliges, shows off every inch of herself.  She has only a few wisps of white floss on her mound.  Inside, she’s a bright, rich rose color.  The creases of her nymphae hold her liquor in seashell lines around her clit, her aching core.  She wants him to see what he’s already done to her, what she might do to herself if he holds on much longer.  She inches her fingers in closer to herself, teasing him more than her own skin.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes to her with his prosthetic first.  He’s warmed up some, but not entirely.  Wyn’s shiver is no exaggeration and neither is his eagerness.  He gives her two of his fingers in a slow surge.  She feels herself stretching around him, and the tickling sensation settling into her g-spot.  It hurts a little but she knew it would with him if she ever gave in.  She </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes </span>
  </em>
  <span>that besides and the way he lords over her as he begins to stroke.  There’s no give in his hand, none in his expression.  He lords over her, says, “Come for me.  I wanna see how you do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn takes a deep breath.  She lets her own touch dart against her clit.  She deals herself a few soft strokes before the first sigh.  No exaggeration either.  His weight in her body and that mechanical sensation rising up in her skin have got her working inside, and not gently.  He presses his left hand over hers, matching her small circles.  It’s a lot on her at once, but her hips start to twitch, shuddering under his experimental glances and the thrum he’s drawn out of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harder,” she mewls at him, knowing that’s a gamble hung up like she is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy licks his lips.  His next stroke becomes a thrust then and another.  Wyn tries to plead for more, but there’s another soft shot of pain as he slides his knuckles apart inside of her.  She digs her heels into the bed and pushes up to meet him.  He turns his hand and hooks his fingers hard on her g-spot.  Wyn screams, tells him to do it again and again.  Her orgasm makes her belly clench and her vision bleed white at the very edges.  It’s sudden and all down the palms of Troy Calypso’s hands and he looks so damn satisfied to have caught it.  “So that’s some of your sweet spots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn has so many and they are all still alight, every inch of her still begging through the maddening moment he parts from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he slides out of Wyn, her juices shimmer down his mechanical fingers, spider webs of sweetness that he puts to his mouth.  “You taste really good,” he remarks.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn makes a sound of frustration.  She reaches back to her vulva, furiously pushing inside of herself for a few strokes before she puts herself to her mouth as well.  She knows very well what she tastes like, and that he’ll come back to her, lean in and nip her for taking any share of her slick.  The next kiss is rough.  When he tries to stop, she pulls on his hair instead of stroking it like she’s done before.  He bites the shell of her ear.  She moves after like she means to hold herself there, but instead she tugs at his overshirt.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s gone in a moment.  The tank top follows and the snap on his fly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn knows he’s impressive.  She’s shared a bed with him after all, caught him sleeping and half-hard against her skin, but it’s one thing to realize what he’s like and another to see him bearing down on her, slippery red and so thick the sight of him makes her tremble.  At the same time she longs to feel him in the deepest places of her body.  She wants to touch him before he comes any closer.  He looks as though he may burn her.  And that, in the end, doesn’t deter her at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sinks her hands around his root, scritching into his thatch before she draws her way down his body, feeling the tightness of his skin, thickness of his blood in her hands, all the way to the end where she holds him.  His tip weeps as he rests on her palm.  Then his hands get tangled up with hers.  They’re already sticky with one another’s fluids, there as he lifts her away, first simply from him and then for her psalm fest somewhere over her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy says, “I’m gonna make you mine now.  That’s…” His voice doesn’t falter.  Instead, he slides into this deep predatory sigh.  If there is such a thing.  There must be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn’s heard it now.  “Troy?” she breathes.  “Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he tells her yes, the words are lost in the sudden rasp of their skin.  She expects him to mount her.  She’s got her legs cocked waiting to accept his body and her pelvis as relaxed as she can given the clenching want riding up to her navel.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, Troy grabs her off the sheets.  Her dress splits in his grasp— and her own, she realizes.  The dress is ruined.  Her fists ache.  His hands devour her as he drags her in.  For a flash, he holds her above him, the tatters of her clothing washing out around her like wings.  Then he brings her down.  Wyn shrieks in the heavenly instant of weightlessness before their bodies meet.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>earned her no gentleness, which was nothing she wanted anyway.  She can feel him all through her, deep into her belly.  He is intense, not only the sheer heaviness of his cock, but the greed in his hands, scent of his skin, catch of his lips on the curve of her throat.  The last time she was so full of someone else in any sense… no, she doesn’t think it happened before.  And it’s not invasive, nothing like the first time he got into her head.  This time she invited him, wanted him, is determined to keep him in her as long as she can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I? A vampire?” Troy groans as he rears off of the sheets, his hands closing tight on her hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because of course he’s in her head even now.  Sometimes that’s inevitable.  Now, with the two of them crashed up together, that would be one of those times.  So Wyn thinks yes, and something poetical about him breaking her threshold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy pulls off just far enough to give her a curious sort of look.  He also moans the next time she rides down onto him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn hadn’t had him pegged as a moaner.  He’s so expressive though.  It makes sense.  The sound is deep and beastial.  It draws her to him the same as his grasp does.  Her arms lace behind his neck, for nearness and for leverage.  The way they’re joined after all, she’s doing more than her share of the work, and much of the rest is him moving her against him.  He does rise to meet her, and there’s a sharpness to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s all different too, fucking this way instead of down on the sheets.  She would have those to cling to with anyone else.  Here, there’s only him, dragging her one way to kiss and another to lick up the sweat on her throat.  He growls about how much he wants her, and there are no words in the sound, but flashes of his memories of her, glimpses of her body and touch recollections of lying beside her, of their first embrace, last time she clocked him during training.  She is all of this to him, desired and desirous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn’s head swims, full not so much of herself, but of his image of her and the him buried in her now.  She tries to return the favor, but in her thrills all she has to offer is past orgasms.  Each one she flashes on brings him driving deeper against her.  She thinks he’s trying to smile at her about it, but he can’t hold on beyond the sounds she drags out of him.  It’s so beautiful to see him, feel him, know him like that.  When they’re both gone on each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn kisses him, spends another orgasm in her memories, comes in the present with a trembling rush that has her clinging to Troy, all of her skin she can manage against him.  It’s too much.  It’s not enough.  It is brutally wonderful, burning there in his arms, hearing him cry along with her until somehow they’re kissing again, so hard their lips are soaked by the end.  His bottom one has split, enough to show the red beneath.  She might have nipped him.  She tries to heal, but he only kisses again, pushes into her once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tastes copper, but moreso, she tastes him and the copper’s so good matches with him, against her, the two of them rising and writhing and being.  Their kisses dart now, even though they’re each reaching to breathe.  It might be the bed shaking beneath them, but all Wyn knows is his weight and his lips once again.  When she twists away to try out Troy’s tongue and his teeth wash against her cheek.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she wasn’t so serious about getting had right now, she’d laugh.  As things are, the moment turns her hungry.  She rears at Troy, doing the same to him.  He squirms inside of her.  One hand fastens in her hair and he draws her around, running his tongue over her throat while he has her tilted in his grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn’s shudders trickle together now that she’s come.  She is a shudder there in his arms.  She still wants him, that same line on his throat where his scent gathers thick.  She wants that in her mouth.  She’ll fight him for it, pressing and climbing and sighing his name for every time he pulls her back to holding him inside of her.  By and by, he bites her ear again.  She struggles.  Her nails dig into his back as she longs to taste him there like he did her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoves her down.  Her whole body smacks on his.  She should think to him that’s not too rough before he tries to back off again.  She can’t even quite get the words or the ideas out.  She’s thinking of his neck in her mouth and she wants it so bad that the teeth-worried kisses he leaves down her place a maddening wonder in her.  They turn harder as he moves along, and she cries out by the time he finds the softness of her shoulder.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy bites her there, then laves her with his tongue.  Another bite in the same place follows, him gone in a sound of pleasure, tearing off before there’s any hurt more than pressure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn surges.  Her tension has turned unbearable.  She’s already come.  It shouldn’t be like this.  But in the shadow of him over her body, it is like this: she can’t take her eyes off of him, dim as his nearness has turned him in her vision.  “Do it!” she cries.  “Do it as hard as you can! Leave a mark!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy’s being blazes at the word mark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Healing feels something snap in his essence like glass inside a chemlight.  He runs catalyzed and unbearably bright.   With his teeth in her, there’s real pain, blinding stuff, but also ecstasy.  Wyn stirs inside too.  She knows she’s screaming but she cannot hear herself over the crash.  Her blood roars through her whole body, only especially her heart and her cunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has never come this hard before, where she can feel every nerve that’s brought her to orgasm flaring, every muscle clenching to finish it, every inch of her squeezing on Troy’s cock.  A handful of instant later, she catches him thrumming too, every pulse in his body as he slams into climax— his thighs and his cock and his heart under her hands; every jolt of sperm and trickle of sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now him.  She heard him scream.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy pulls off of her, blood lining the threads of spit that break between them.  He looks dazed and he’s blushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wyn swipes at his mouth before he can. He turns to her, soft now in his attentions.  And he smiles, tracing on the wickedness he showed before when he first had her, but no more than that.  His expression makes Wyn feel as though she’s eaten him somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, she lets her hand rest there on his cheek for the long while it takes his breathing to even out.  He softens slower than most men she’s been with and she can feel him inside of her for a long while before he slips out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there’s this rush of slick and semen, pearly stuff stained all over both of their thighs.  Troy sort of hiccups when he sees so much.  Maybe a second or two later, something glistening metallic passes over the sky.  Colored spotlights twist in the distance, catching on their still-open window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anybody could have seen, but that fact seems dull to Wyn.  She runs her fingers through the wet wreckage of their sex.  Thoughtfully, she pushes just a little of it back into herself.  It won’t stay and she doesn’t want it too— that would be more complications than they’ve already made.  It feels though like in that moment, she comes softly one more time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels right, anyway.  Dizzyingly right.  She drifts sideways in Troy’s arms.  Her sweaty skin slips from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy makes a curious sound, watching her against the pillows at least one more time for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All at once, Wyn sits up and seizes him.  This time, she pulls him along.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Set to the Jensen Sportag remix of "Trust Fall" by Madi Diaz: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ovp7_2MLtuE&amp;ab_channel=MajesticCasual</p><p>Question: how the devil did I end up here? Well, first I put down an issue of Respectable Science Fiction Bimonthly to go read Timekeeper’s Gambit, then I told Wat_Are_Dis that I had and we got to carrying on...</p><p>Me: Well, if you don’t fancy writing their first time, I could pinch hit it.</p><p>Wat_Are_Dis: Really :D?</p><p>Me: Sure! I’ve written about 300 sex scenes in my life, so I have the mental infrastructure to do it pretty easily.</p><p>Wat_Are_Dis: Mau, WAT???</p><p>^^^ Paraphrasing.  Also, lowballed that number. </p><p>Speaking of which, writing a dominant Troy with a cutie OC? *chef kiss* Great change of pace &amp; so much fun.  I had a blast and I hope everyone enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it.  I’ll see you around the Borderlands tags, or, as I like to call them, Actually Fun Science Fiction Whenever.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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